Konoha Café
by ResurgereTento
Summary: Crossdressing, jealousy, pranks and boys in aprons – what more could you want from yet another college AU? Boy love? Oh wait, it’ll have that too. Eventual SasuNaruNaruSasu, among other pairings.


Disclaimer: OH HO HO NOT MINE. Characters belong to Kishimoto, and there's rather obvious Ouran High School Host Club inspiration in there too (that's what I get for watching it all in one go).

Summary: Cross-dressing, jealousy, pranks and boys in aprons – what more could you want from yet another college AU? Boy love? Oh wait, it'll have that too. Eventual SasuNaru/NaruSasu, among other pairings.

Funnily enough, this was the first story I ever started writing. It's been living in my notebook for quite sometime…now I'm making you guys read it. :D

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Tucking his folder of papers under his arm, Jiraiya stepped out from the doorway of the empty store. Taking a few steps forward he halted and turned, gazing up at the lifeless building with rather uncharacteristic deliberation. Hesitation flickered in his eyes, a sight that would cause his friends – few as they were – to nudge each other in confusion. Doubt was a concept Jiraiya generally refused to recognise.

Yet here he was.

The potential was there, anyone could acknowledge that. The soon-to-be café was spacious and airy, with massive windows dominating the front wall. There was a counter, a kitchen and a small office space, as well as a tiny courtyard out the back. Out the front, where Jiraiya stood, there was a wide sidewalk – enough space for outdoor tables – with a small walled garden dividing the pavement from the curb. A short distance in one direction was the local university, while a short walk in the other would lead to the high school.

On the other hand, it was a dump.

The newly-leased property was not a particularly pretty sight. The shop front was gray and derelict, windows boarded up and awnings in tatters. It was bordered by stores in similar condition – the entire complex was empty, and its current state of disrepair advertised the fact. Inside, tiles were broken and frayed wires hung dangerously from light fittings. The courtyard was filled with presumably unwanted junk, and the garden behind his left knee was mere dirt. He _would_ say that the front door needed a lick of paint except that there wasn't, in fact, a door to begin with.

But he could _see_ his café. Bustling, cheerful and full to the brim with bright-eyed and busty female customers – he grinned at the thought. The image had been enough for him to sign the lease…now all he needed was some sort of sign to get rid of this lingering feeling of uncertainty.

"H-hey! No, don't – _don't…_damn!"

Amused, Jiraiya's attention was drawn to a flustered blond boy that had just dropped a stack of papers, scattering them across the sidewalk. As he watched, the boy fell to his knees and began to gather up the sheets.

Jiraiya snorted to himself, and returned to his thoughts. He had recently returned from another international 'research' trip – he was, after all, primarily a writer – and his somewhat unorthodox exploration of Japan had given him a few ideas. In particular, it was their hostess bars that were inspiring…

But he didn't think he could get away with such a trade here. Even if it was all in good fun, hiring only attractive females would be sure to draw feminist activists like moths to a flame. However he had realised that should he set up a _host_ club instead, well, people would be less likely to brand him a pervert _and_ there would be a much, much higher turnover of pretty young girls. Giggling, pretty little things they'd be!

But he'd have to make sure that he hired only the best of hosts. After all, it wouldn't do to have an unpopular café – his reputation was at stake! All of those 'types' he had learned about (by interviewing high school girls…all for the sake of research, obviously) would have to be found, but it wouldn't be too hard, surely? It might be difficult to find gentleman-like behaviour nowadays but Jiraiya was sure he could beat manners into someone. Prince types, Devil types, Cool types – all were easy enough. However…the Shota type could be nearly impossible.

Blocking out the strangled cry of the nearby blond boy as a gentle wind blew his papers further away, Jiraiya sunk deeper into thought. It would be difficult indeed, since he could only hire a boy of working age. And kids were always striving so hard to be older these days (what he wouldn't do for their youth!). The problem niggled at the back of his mind…if only he could get that damn sign. Just one!

The breeze picked up, ruffling his long hair. There was another muttered obscenity from the struggling young boy on the footpath and Jiraiya looked down to discover the wind had blown one of the sheets to his feet.

_Damn, _he thought. _I can't ignore the stupid brat anymore._

Bending down to pick the piece of paper up, turning it over as he went. Scanning it as he straightened, he blinked in surprise. It was by all appearances a resume – a photograph of the kid at the top, a few demographical details and academic achievements…on it went. As he read, he heard a small cough.

"Hey – hey, old man. Can I have that back? I sorta need it."

Jiraiya slowly raised his gaze and looked over the top of the sheet. Enormous blue eyes blinked back at him from a young, round face framed by yellow-blond hair. The faint lines of whisker lines marked his cheeks, but Jiraiya didn't bother to wonder about their source. There were more important questions to consider.

"And why the hell would a brat like you need to look for a job?"

The bright-eyed kid drew himself up immediately, unconcerned about being asked intrusive questions by a complete stranger. "'Cause Naruto Uzumaki can look after himself!" he said proudly, jabbing a thumb to his chest.

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow. The brat didn't look any more than eight at most…why the hell would he _need_ to look after himself? "And just how old are you, kid?"

The boy – Naruto, apparently – puffed out his cheeks as if the question was offensive in and of itself. "I'm _almost_ ten. And that means I'm _not_ a kid!"

Jiraiya felt his other eyebrow rise to meet the first. "And your parents approve of this?"

Naruto visibly faltered, shoulders dropping. "Haven't got any," he muttered under his breath. _Ah, _the older man thought. _That explains a little._

"Your guardians?" After all, the kid should at least be in foster care – even though permanent adoption was fairly rare outside of newborns, fostering was a common option.

"They don't know," the blond mumbled. Then, suddenly he stood straight and looked Jiraiya directly in the eye. "Dun _need_ them. I can look after myself!"

"So you said," Jiraiya answered. He gave a slight cough. "Look, you little idiot, no one's going to hire you."

Naruto looked taken aback, before quickly recovering and shaking a fist in the man's face. "Of _course_ they will, I'm Naruto –"

"Shut up. It's _illegal, _dumbass. You're too young."

The boy's face plummeted, as if he never realised that could be a problem. Jiraiya would hazard a guess that he hadn't, especially since he did seem a little slow. The blue eyes had gone a little distant and he looked unsure of himself, like the loss of an immediate goal had thrown him off the tracks completely.

"Listen kid, you don't need to take care of yourself. That's your foster parent's job, okay?"

"I dun like them," Naruto said. "And they move you all the time anyway, it's not like any of them are real parents."

There was a small silence, the white-haired man unsure of himself in such a situation. Luckily, the kid carried on. "…and they don't like me," he said softly.

"Why not?"

The boy's mumble was so soft Jiraiya barely caught it. "I cut off Sarah's ponytail."

There was a pause, before Jiraiya threw back his head and laughed.

"It – it's not funny! She was being – being _mean_ about my w-whiskers," Jiraiya sobered quickly and looked on in horror as tears started to form in the boy's eyes. "A-and now they're gonna move me _again_…"

Oh hell no. Crying kids were just out of Jiraiya's league. And the kid was still talking.

"…and there's Kiba and Neji and Neji bought me ramen the other day and Iruka-sensei said I could write really well. So I'm not leaving," suddenly blue eyes were glaring into Jiraiya's own, hard and determined. "I'm gonna get a job, and run away, and I'll be fine and I can stay here!"

And suddenly those eyes triggered a thought in Jiraiya. _Shota type, huh?_ His gaze shifted back to the resume, reading over it once more and thinking. Unfortunately, Jiraiya had never been one to thoroughly consider consequences.

And he made a rash decision.

"I'll adopt you, kid."

There was dead silence for a moment as wide eyes simply stared at Jiraiya, before the unexpected happened. The blond exploded. "I said I'm _not _a kid!" he shouted, honest anger in his expression. "And I don't _need –_"

"Shut up, brat," Jiraiya said with slight surprise, but unconcerned nonetheless. "There's no way in hell I'm taking care of you."

The blond trailed off in his ranting, confused.

Jiraiya rolled his eyes and explained. "You'll be working for me – just not officially, because like I said it ain't legal. But a kid helping out his guardian doesn't look odd, does it?" He reached out – with slight reluctance, since he really wasn't used to children – to ruffle the boy's hair. "It means I won't be able to pay you, but if I set you up in an apartment of your own that'll cover wages from here till you're of working age. So you'll be taking care of yourself, right?"

And as Jiraiya watched the brightest, widest grin he'd ever seen in his life spread slowly across the boy's face, lighting up his eyes and dimpling his whiskers. Shota type indeed.

_Hell, _Jiraiya thought, _even if I couldn't get a sign, at least I managed some good luck.  
_

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Ahh, borderline legality. Thankfully, we won't have to bother with how they actually pull this off - this is a prologue. There will be a MASSIVE time jump before the first chapter – the story actually occurs when he's 19. So don't worry, no one has to feel guilty about drooling over boys in aprons. Good? Good. Also, Jiraiya's a rich author. I doubt a little apartment would mean much to him (and besides, he gets like five years worth of free labour out of it). 

Actual country/city where story takes place irrelevant. Don't know meself.

Un-beta'd and, for once, not really read through either. Point out any mistakes, please. :D I don't really like the writing of it – it all felt a bit forced – but hell, it's the boring prologue. Still, if you've got any tips I'd be happy to hear.

Next story updated will probably be Mutatis – chapter's almost ready. :O


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